Long Afore He Knowed Who Santy-Claus Wuz.

Jes' a little bit o' feller - I remember still, -
Ust to almost cry far Christmas, like a youngster will.
Fourth o' July's nothin' to it! - New-Year's ain't a smell:
Easter-Sunday - Circus-day - jes' all dead in the shell!
Lordy, though! at night, you know, to set around and hear
The old folks work the story off about the sledge and deer,
And "Santy" skootin' round the roof, all wrapped in fur and fuzz -
Long afore
            I knowed who
                            "Santy-Claus" wuz!

Ust to wait, and set up late, a week er two ahead:
Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't go to bed:
Kittle stewin' on the fire, and Mother settin' here
Darnin' socks, and rockin' in the skreeky rockin'-cheer;
Pap gap', and wunder where it wuz the money went,
And quar'l with his frosted heels, and spill his liniment:
And me a-dreamin' sleigh-bells when the clock 'ud whir and buzz,
Long afore
            I knowed who
                            "Santy-Claus" wuz!

Size the fire-place up, and figger how "Old Santy" could
Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would:
Wisht that I could hide and see him - wundered what he 'd say
Ef he ketched a feller layin' far him thataway!
But I bet on him, and liked him, same as ef he had
Turned to pat me on the back and say, "Look here, my lad,
Here's my pack, - jes' he'p yourse'f, like all good boys does!"
Long afore
            I knowed who
                            "Santy-Claus" wuz!

Wisht that yarn was true about him, as it 'peared to be -
Truth made out o' lies like that-un's good enough far me! -
Wisht I still wuz so confidin' I could jes' go wild
Over hangin' up my stockin's, like the little child
Climbin' in my lap to-night, and beggin' me to tell
'Bout them reindeers, and "Old Santy" that she loves so well
I'm half sorry far this little-girl-sweetheart of his -
Long afore
            She knows who
                            "Santy-Claus" is!

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

James Whitcomb Riley

To Hear Her Sing.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

In The Evening

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

The Blossoms On The Trees.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

Her Beautiful Eyes.

James Whitcomb Riley, Simple Poetry

English

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Who Santy-Claus Wuz

Jes' a little bit o' feller - I remember still -
Ust to almost cry fer Christmas, like a youngster will.
Fourth o' July's nothin' to it! - New Year's ain't a smell!
Easter-Sunday - Circus-day - jes' all dead in the shell!
Lawzy, though! at night, you know, to set around an' hear
The old folks work the story off about the sledge an' deer,
An' "Santy" skootin' round the roof, all wrapt in fur an' fuzz -
Long afore
                I knowed who
                                "Santy-Claus" wuz!

Ust to wait, an' set up late, a week er two ahead;
Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't go to bed;
Kittle stewin' on the fire, an' Mother settin' here
Darnin' socks, an' rockin' in the skreeky rockin'-cheer;
Pap gap', an' wonder where it wuz the money went,
An' quar'l ...

James Whitcomb Riley

John Alden And Percilly.

    We got up a Christmas-doin's
        Last Christmas Eve -
    Kindo' dimonstration
        'At I railly believe
    Give more satisfaction -
        Take it up and down -
    Than ary intertainment
        Ever come to town!

    Railly was a theater -
        That's what it was, -
    But, bein' in the church, you know,
        We had a "Santy Clause" -
    So 's to git the old folks
        To patternize, you see,
    And back the institootion up
        Kindo' morally.

    Schoolteacher writ the thing -
        (Was a friend o' mine),
    Got it out o' Longfeller's
        Pome "Evangeline" -
    Er some'rs - 'bout the Purituns - .
        Anyway, the part
    "...

James Whitcomb Riley

What "Old Santa" Overheard
'Tis said old Santa Claus one time
Told this joke on himself in rhyme:
One Christmas, in the early din
That ever leads the morning in,
I heard the happy children shout
In rapture at the toys turned out
Of bulging little socks and shoes -
A joy at which I could but choose
To listen enviously, because
I'm always just "Old Santa Claus," -
But ere my rising sigh had got
To its first quaver at the thought,
It broke in laughter, as I heard
A little voice chirp like a bird, -

"Old Santa's mighty good, I know.
And awful rich - and he can go
Down ever' chimbly anywhere
In all the world! - But I don't care,
I wouldn't trade with him, and be
Old Santa Clause, and him be me,
Fer all his toys and things! - and I<...
James Whitcomb Riley

A Christmas Memory
Pa he bringed me here to stay
'Til my Ma she's well. - An' nen
He's go' hitch up, Chris'mus-day,
An' come take me back again
Wher' my Ma's at! Won't I be
Tickled when he comes fer me!

My Ma an' my A'nty they
'Uz each-uvver's sisters. Pa -
A'nty telled me, th' other day, -
He comed here an' married Ma....
A'nty said nen, "Go run play,
I must work now!" ... An' I saw,
When she turn' her face away,
She 'uz cryin'. - An' nen I
'Tend-like I "run play" - an' cry.

This-here house o' A'nty's wher'
They 'uz borned - my Ma an' her! -
An' her Ma 'uz my Ma's Ma,
An' her Pa 'uz my Ma's Pa -

Ain't that funny? - An' they're dead:
An' this-here's "th' ole Homestead." -
An' my A'nty said, an' cried,
James Whitcomb Riley

Das Krist Kindel
I had fed the fire and stirred it, till the sparkles in delight
Snapped their saucy little fingers at the chill December night;
And in dressing-gown and slippers, I had tilted back "my throne" -
The old split-bottomed rocker - and was musing all alone.

I could hear the hungry Winter prowling round the outer door,
And the tread of muffled footsteps on the white piazza floor;
But the sounds came to me only as the murmur of a stream
That mingled with the current of a lazy-flowing dream.

Like a fragrant incense rising, curled the smoke of my cigar,
With the lamplight gleaming through it like a mist-enfolded star; -
And as I gazed, the vapor like a curtain rolled away,
With a sound of bells that tinkled, and the clatter of a sleigh.

And in a vision, painted like a pi...
James Whitcomb Riley

The Hard Times in Elfland.
A Story of Christmas Eve.

Strange that the termagant winds should scold
The Christmas Eve so bitterly!
But Wife, and Harry the four-year-old,
Big Charley, Nimblewits, and I,

Blithe as the wind was bitter, drew
More frontward of the mighty fire,
Where wise Newfoundland Fan foreknew
The heaven that Christian dogs desire -

Stretched o'er the rug, serene and grave,
Huge nose on heavy paws reclined,
With never a drowning boy to save,
And warmth of body and peace of mind.

And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or careless chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
A...
Sidney Lanier